


Eros, God of Love

by dustbear



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Costumes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustbear/pseuds/dustbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil apparently hates Halloween now, even though Clint is quite certain that he's never hated Halloween before. But, Clint makes it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eros, God of Love

It’s early evening on Halloween night by the time the Avengers are done with their coordinated PR activity of the day, spent handing out candy at a local children’s hospital. Steve had been the highlight of the event, dressed in a replica of his 1940s costume, with Natasha the surprising second-favourite, even though she’d barely tried. “We don’t do Halloween in Russia,” she’d complained, although she managed a witch’s hat and some exceptional green makeup all the same.

Phil, however, had been conspicuously absent from the gathering, even with the draw of seeing Captain America in his favourite Captain America getup, which is why Clint Barton is marching down a corridor in S.H.I.E.L.D’s New York Field Office dressed as Eros(The Robin Hood option was a little too on the nose for his taste).

He doesn’t knock on Phil’s door, because he never does, although he stops short when he throws the door open and spots Phil at his desk, with his head bowed, and his fingers aggressively rubbing at his temples.

“I really hope that’s you, Barton.” Phil grumbles, “Because I’m in no mood for anyone’s else’s shenanigans right now.”

“You missed Cap’s costume.” Clint says, his voice light and teasing. "He was looking pretty sexy."

Phil raises his head slowly, running his eyes over Clint’s costume, and obviously ignoring any Captain America related comments. “Why are you wearing a sheet?”

“It’s a toga. I’m Eros.” Clint smirks, because Phil’s eyes are tired, but he’s certain he can make them a little bit less so.

“The Greek god of love. You must be feeling particularly narcissistic today.” Phil says, his voice dry. Clint ignores the jab, but he does not ignore the amount of attention that is currently being paid to his half uncovered chest.

“C’mon. The night is young. Let’s go trick o’ treating.”

“No.” Phil says, shifting his eyes back to his computer monitor. “I’ll buy you candy if you want it.”

“It’s not about the candy. Look, you don’t even need a costume. Just put on your sun glasses and you can be a Man in Black. Which you sort of are, so it works.”

“No.” Phil insists, returning to his work. No smart comment, no vague attempt at verbal sparring, none of the usual dry humour. Clint drops into the soft couch that substitutes as his second home(his first home is Phil’s other couch, in his helicarrier office.).

Clint is good at sitting patiently, and he’s even good at sitting quietly when the occasion demands it. Phil is obviously trying not to look at him, but he certainly doesn’t seem to be paying the requisite amount of attention to his work either. So, Clint waits.

“I hate Halloween.” Phil finally says, breaking the silence.

Clint furrows his forehead, because this is the seventh year he’s known Phil Coulson, and he’s had his head bashed into hard objects quite a few times in the past year, but he does clearly remember the year that Phil Coulson dressed as Captain America, and the year that Phil Coulson insisted on organizing the S.H.I.E.L.D Bring Your Kid to Work Day and Harvest Festival, and the year that Phil Coulson invited him over to his apartment to hand out candy.

That last one was also the year that Clint had found himself in Phil Coulson’s bed. That had been disastrous for all parties involved, and they had both agreed never to speak of it again, or make any attempts to reenact that night. Still, Clint would be lying if he didn’t think of that night often. It was a little unfair, he thought, they were both drunk, and barely got undressed, and it was really just an awfully stupid way to have his persistent crush culminate in a hazy, drunken, sugar high pile of limbs and premature ejaculation.

But now, Phil is staring into space, and claiming that he hates Halloween, and Clint knows that however awkward their last Halloween had been together, it certainly wasn’t enough reason for Phil to start _hating_ Halloween.

Clint isn’t really good at comfort, so he shuffles his feet and shrugs nonchalantly. “Um, you wanna just go for a beer, then?”

“I don’t want to go out on Halloween night.” Phil sighs, running his hand over the short hair on the back of his neck. “I suppose I should try to explain.”

“You really don’t have to, it’s cool. I mean, I’ve been rejected plenty.“ Clint tries to joke, because he is being rejected right now, and it does hurt a little, even though he tries to shove the sudden stabbing pain in his heart under a layer of concern for Phil.

“It’s not about you!” Phil snaps. Clint doesn’t see Phil angry often, but Phil looks quite angry now, his adam’s apple bobbing jerkily in his throat. “It’s just - fuck. Fuck!” Phil shoves his rolling chair away from his desk, letting the back of the chair smash into the bookshelf behind him. Clint remains still, because he doesn’t know what to do, Phil kicks at his file cabinet, the sound loud and clanging in the small room, before petulantly shoving a stack of folders off his desk. Clint does not try to pick them up, but focuses instead on Phil’s ragged breathing as he leans back in his chair.

“Okay.” Clint says. “Do you want me to leave?” he asks, even as he hopes that Coulson will not answer in the affirmative.

Phil doesn’t answer for a while, but Clint observes him as his breathing starts to even out again. Clint waits, because Phil is the one person that has ever been able to make him wait.

Finally, Phil wipes his brow off with a handkerchief, and leans forward on his desk, covering his face with his hands. “I was just walking to work this morning.” Phil mumbles through his fingers. “And there were these kids from a day care walking to the park, and one was dressed like Captain America, and one was dressed like Stark, and another was dressed like you.”

“That sounds kinda cute.” Clint says, tentatively.

Phil laughs a laugh that isn’t too funny, turning his head to face Clint, propping up his forehead with a hand. “And there was a kid dressed like Loki too.”

“Oh.” Clint says.

“It’s stupid, right? A grown man having a panic attack in the middle of the street because of some kid’s costume? There are adults dressing like him too. I just - I just don’t think I can go out tonight and see _him_ on the streets of New York.”

“Is that why you’re still here?” Clint ventures. “Because you didn’t want to drive home?”

“Oh god, don’t make fun of me.” Phil sighs. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Dude. You think I want to look at Loki too?”

“Um - no. That’s not what I meant. Jesus, I’m so sorry - “ Phil starts to desperately backtrack, and Clint chortles, because getting to see both angry Phil and awkward Phil in one night - well, it’s not a treat exactly, but it does feel a little bit special.

“Phil, shut up. Come on. I’ll drive you home, and we’ll stay in and drink beer and ignore trick o’ treaters all night.”

Phil looks mortified, but he does allow Clint to manhandle him into a black SHIELD van with tinted windows, and doesn’t complain about Clint’s music choices(the soundtrack to The Muppet Movie). The kids hanging out in Phil’s hallway chatting eagerly about their candy hauls are dressed as a mummy, a witch, and a slug, which is a relief, because Clint was certainly not looking forward to having to subdue and remove a miniature Loki.

Phil’s door scans them both in, with Clint’s handprint eliciting a “Hawkeye. Approved.” from the door, which is...interesting. Phil catches him noticing and explains, businesslike - “You and Romanov have access. It’s S.H.I.E.L.D security protocol in case of an emergency.” The flutter in Clint’s chest dies down appropriately.

Phil shuffles towards his kitchen, stripping off his suit jacket and loosening his tie and Clint tries not to pay too much attention to the triangle of skin at Phil’s neck. Even though he’s leaning against the kitchen island wearing a sheet - no, a toga - it’s Phil that looks less dressed with just his shirtsleeves rolled up. Clint watches as Phil makes two cups of tea, microwaving the water instead of bothering to put the kettle on.

“Thank you, Barton.” Phil says, averting his eyes from Clint’s chest, and focused on a point right behind Clint’s head.

“You’re staring at me.” Clint grins, propping his chin up in his hands.

“Clint, you’re wearing a sheet.” Phil rolls his eyes, but there is a red flush creeping past his ears. “You look ridiculous, of course I’m staring at you.”

“It’s a toga. Wait, you _are_ staring at me.” Clint exclaims, a look of pure victory on his face that quickly dissolves when he realizes how agitated Phil looks.

Phil sighs, rubbing his temples in a familiar gesture. “Barton. Yes, I’m staring at you. And of course you know that I’m staring at you, because christ, everyone stares at you. At your arms, at your ass, at everything that is you, because you are a damn good looking man, and you are so aware of that. Fuck!” Phil exclaims, slamming his cup down on the counter, the hot tea spilling onto his hands. He doesn’t seem to notice, but he quickly takes a deep breath to recompose himself. “And since you are already aware that I’m staring, and you already know about my stupid crush on you, it would be very kind of you if you could leave now, and leave me with my dignity.”

“Phil - I - um -” Clint manages to get out, because...did Phil just say something about a crush?

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Barton. I’m a grown man. It’s not like I haven’t had my heart broken before.“ Phil says wryly, his eyes focused directly on his mug. His face is scarlet. “Thank you for getting me home.”

Clint makes up his mind, and it only takes him seconds to cross over to Phil’s side of the kitchen counter. He shoves lightly at Phil’s shoulder, and when Phil looks up, it is more than easy to lean down and brush his lips against Phil’s. It’s not a particularly romantic kiss, mostly because Phil looks positively confused, and jerks backwards.

“I swear, Barton. If this is a joke, I am not in the mood for it.” Phil chokes out, wrapping his arms around himself.

Clint laughs, and puts his hand out in a gentle offering. “I’ve been in love with you for five years. I thought I’d fucked it up for good last Halloween.”

He waits as the slow realization crawls over Phil’s face. He’s no longer concerned at the end result; he’s good at waiting.

Phil is still blinking owlishly at him, so Clint decides that he can step forward and try another kiss. Phil responds this time, and from the way his hands tangle in the front of Clint’s sheet(alright, it’s a sheet), he likely no longer thinks that this is a joke, nor any sort of crush borne out of pity.

“I am an idiot.” Phil says, into his lips, moving away to rest his forehead on Clint’s shoulder..

“Yeah, you’re kind of an idiot.” Clint answers, before he tilts Phil’s chin up and proceeds to stop Phil from talking further.

“This sheet looks stupid. Take it off.” Phil demands, when they break for air, and Clint shrugs it off easily, not caring that he probably still looks stupid wearing his combat boots, purple boxers and a plastic costume bow and quiver. Judging from Phil’s amused look, he is correct.

“Having a good Halloween?” Clint asks, already dragging Phil in the direction of the bedroom.

“I think I’m starting to like Halloween again.” Phil says, as he follows eagerly.

**Author's Note:**

> A tiny little Halloween fic! I'm also on Tumblr at [dustjane.tumblr.com](http://dustjane.tumblr.com)


End file.
